


Another Man's Theology

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: AOS, Barebacking, Dirty Talk, Fingering, M/M, Minor kink negotiation, Oral Sex, PWP, Porn Without (too much) Plot, Rimming, pornstar AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 15:48:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8538952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Leonard McCoy is no 'seasoned veteran' of the porn industry, but he's got every right to be a little bit wary of his upcoming scene with a Vulcan, of all the species.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i started this forever ago, on the random thought of 'hey let's write a spones pornstar au.' so that's what i did. there's the bare threads of a plot toward the end, a promise of where their relationship may go, but this is just a oneshot, i doubt i'll contribute more to this verse. hope you like all this unrepentant porn!

“Bones, c’mon.”

“Told ya not to call me that on set, Jim.”

“What else am I going to call you?” Jim waves off McCoy’s answer. “Doesn’t matter. You gotta do this. It’ll be great! He’s exactly your type.”

“My type?” McCoy rounds on his friend-slash-coworker with a wildly incredulous look. “My type sure as hell ain’t emotionless robots who think they’re too good to eat with the rest of us.”

Jim groans. “Bones, you know that’s not why he did that. He’s a vegetarian! All the sandwiches had meat in them!” Jim reaches out and takes his friend by the shoulders. He forces McCoy to face him, grip tight enough so he can’t flee. “He’s cute, he’s fit, and he looks like he’s absolutely beggin’ to be wrecked.”

Well, McCoy can’t argue with that. Doesn’t change much though.

Jim evidently senses this and carries on talking. “Did you see his eyes? Jesus, Bones, how can you resist that?”

“Easily. M’not gonna do a scene with a _Vulcan_. I don’t get off on feeling like a lesser being. Not my cup of tea, Jim.” McCoy finally shakes out of Jim’s grip. “You like him so much? You do the scene!”

“Bones!” Jim follows him down the hall. “You gotta know he wouldn’t do that. Spock seems like a nice guy. Just because he doesn’t talk much and just because he’s Vulcan doesn’t mean he’s some sort of super controlling dom.”

McCoy casts a weary look at his friend.

“Just—will you just sit down with him? Grab some coffee for yourself and get him a cup of tea, go to his room and talk. Get to know him.” Jim shoves McCoy toward the room with all the food and drinks. “If you really hate him after talking with him for, hell, a measly fifteen minutes, then I _will_ do the damn scene.”

McCoy looks Jim over with a careful eye. The kid’s worst quality is that he’s unfailing honest and he’s being just as genuine now. “Shake on it,” McCoy says anyway. He holds out his hand and isn’t surprised when Jim shakes his hand instantly. “Fine. I’ll go _talk_ to him.” McCoy puts on a show of grumbling and huffing his way to the refreshments just so Jim knows exactly how much he _doesn’t_ want to do this.

 

 

Ten minutes later finds Bones with an already half-empty cup of coffee and a steaming cup of traditional Vulcan tea. He knocks on Spock’s dressing room door with an elbow and taps his foot impatiently until the door swings open.

“Leonard.”

McCoy doesn’t comment on the first name—he can already tell it’d be pointless to try and get Spock to call him anything else. “Got you tea.” He holds out the cup carefully and Spock takes it with both hands. He inhales the steam rolling off the top and his frame relaxes. The change, however minute and however minor, settles something in McCoy’s own body, so he says “We should talk.”

Spock raises a perfectly trimmed eyebrow at the same time he brings the tea to his lips. After a drawn out sip, he steps back to let McCoy into his room. The room is furnished much the same as the rest of the rooms for them: a couch, a few chairs, a table. There’s a mirror against one wall and a small closet tucked toward the back of the room; a mini-fridge sits in one corner and Spock’s bags sit in another. Spock goes for an especially plush chair, and McCoy settles onto the couch.

“As this was your idea, Leonard, I must implore you to start the conversation.”

McCoy bristles at the tone initially, ready to bark back unhappily. He takes a few deep breathes and forces himself to calm down before speaking. “I, uh. Just figured we might want to get to know one another, if we’re gonna be doing a scene together.”

Spock nods as he sips his tea again. “Logical.”

McCoy downs the rest of his lukewarm coffee and holds the cup tight in his hand. “Uh. Don’t really know where to start to be honest.”

“It is my understanding that the scene will be something of an improvisational type, is that accurate?”

“Yeah, suppose that’s a good way to put it.”

Spock shifts and McCoy watches as the hem of the white, soft robe wrapped around his body slips and exposes more of his thigh. “Then I suggest we discuss preferences to make our scene as smooth as possible.”

McCoy stares at the newly exposed skin and wonders if it’s as soft as it looks. “Right, sounds good.” He nods a little too hard to shake himself from his thoughts. “I can start, if you want?”

Spock regards him silently; deep, brown eyes bore into McCoy over the rim of the cup, curious and closed off at the same time. “I am open to most things.” Spock begins. “I do not enjoy pain play, however erotic asphyxiation is something I’ve enjoyed in the past. I do not have a preference for topping or bottoming but…” He trails off as his cheeks pink.

“But…?” McCoy presses. He leans forward and presses his arms into his knees, getting as close to Spock as he can without actually moving.

“I confess to having watched previous films of yours.” Spock’s voice is a little too loud as though to cover up his embarrassment. “And while I do not have a strict preference I believe I would very much enjoy it if you were to penetrate me.”

McCoy’s whole body erupts in a flush. When has something clinical ever sounded so ridiculously hot? “Yeah?”

“Indeed.” Spock seems to hide his grin in another sip of tea. “I enjoy giving and receiving oral sex, as well as rimming.” The blush on Spock’s cheeks (and his ears, his hands, his knees, McCoy notices) starts to fade but still draws attention to how softly green his skin really is. “Vulcan fingers are very sensitive as well, and I particularly enjoy having them stimulated.”

McCoy’s mouth is dry; he regrets finishing his coffee so quickly. “Uhm.”

Spock’s smile isn’t hidden this time. “And you?”

McCoy is slow to respond, and when he does he’s stammering and tripping over his words. “Uh, about the same. I’d be—I’d enjoy all of that.”

Spock shifts again and this time the robe falls open more down the center, exposes the delicately chiseled lines of his chest, the smattering of hair over skin. “Anything in particular you enjoy?”

McCoy takes a serious moment to consider the question. He likes a lot of things, but nothing that’s really so out there to warrant its own special spotlight. “I’m not really experienced in asphyxiation.”

Spock nods. “We do not have to do that today, if you do not feel comfortable.”

“Maybe you can show me how you like it sometime, so I won’t hurt you.”

Spock’s blush returns even brighter than before. “Logical.” He tilts his head. “I would still like to know if there is anything in particular you would like to do this session?”

“Nothing, er, nothing really special? The best I can say is I like makin’ my partners come, so I hope you don’t mind me taking my sweet time fingering your ass open and making you come a few times before we’re finished.”

Spock’s increased breathing isn’t missed by McCoy. “I would not mind at all.”

McCoy grins in return. “Lookin’ forward to it.”

 

 

“Told you, Bones. Told you he’s just your type.”

“Don’t have a type, Jim, he’s just a decent guy who happens to think my cock is rather appealing and is gonna let me finger his ass open for as long as I like.”

“That’s a type, Bones.”

McCoy looks at Jim disdainfully but doesn’t argue. “Stop callin’ me that, dammit.”

Jim throws his head back and laughs.

 

 

They don’t actually get to do the scene until a few days later. By then, Spock and McCoy both are wound tight with anticipation.

As he cleans up in his dressing room, McCoy wonders not for the first time how he ended up here. Doing porn isn’t something he ever saw for himself, back in the days of his Georgian youth. He saw himself going to medical school, getting married and starting a family. The whole road that lead him here is a bit of a blur, but he knows for certain that James T. Kirk and a lot of alcohol are mostly to blame.

Not that he minds, or regrets his decision. He likes his job; it’s good money with good people and good sex. He’s made a home here at the company, thanks to Jim and a handful of the others. Sure, he’s not a doctor like his parents always wanted, and he’s not married, certainly not a dad. But there’s something fulfilling about fucking on camera, and McCoy likes it too much to stop now.

A knock on the door startles him from his thoughts. He finishes mussing his hair artfully enough to look natural before shouting, “c’mon in.”

Jim pops his blonde head into the room with a far too smug grin on his face. “Almost showtime, Bones.”

McCoy doesn’t even berate him; he just rolls his eyes and nods. “Gimme a minute.” He casts one last look in the mirror, nods to himself, then stands. “Alright, alright, m’coming.”

“Yeah, you will be.”

“Lord, Jim, that was bad. Even for you.” All the same, McCoy follows Jim out of the dressing room and toward the room for their scene. “Is it stupid that I’m nervous?”

Jim looks at him, perplexed. “Really?”

McCoy laughs, bitter and anxious. “Can’t for the life of me figure out why, but I’ll be damned if I can’t get my nerves to settle.” McCoy shrugs a little frantically. “Just wanna make it good for him, ya know? Feel like I might’ve set the standards pretty high, and I don’t want to be a letdown.”

Jim snickers and stops walking. He claps a hand on McCoy’s shoulder. “Trust me, the last place you’re going to be a letdown is in the sac. It’s gonna be great, it’s gonna be sexy, and it’s gonna sell like hotcakes. There’s definitely a market for Vulcans letting loose on film, throwing in a Terran like you is a bonus.” Jim grins bright and wide and McCoy just rolls his eyes again.

“Alright, I have been officially pep-talked. Now shoo, I’ve got a Vulcan to, er…” McCoy’s sentence trails off as he steps into the room for filming and sees said Vulcan in all his naked glory. To hell with preamble, apparently.

As if he senses it, Spock looks up from his phone and looks at McCoy instead. He flushes green and his lips are damp. His hair is ruffled as well, but it’s still neater than McCoy’s. He looks good—better than good—because he’s so clearly Vulcan, but so clearly letting go of cultural restraints. It’s addicting to look at and McCoy wants a taste as soon as possible.

“Bones? Bones, I’m losing you.”

“What? Jim? Didn’t I tell you to scram?” McCoy shoves at him and hurries toward Spock before Jim can tease him more. “Hey,” he says once he’s only a foot or two away from his coworker.

“Hello, Leonard.” Spock’s penis is flaccid, but no less appealing. The scene hasn’t even started yet and McCoy already feels heavy with desire. “Are you ready for today?”

McCoy nods. “You?”

Spock grins this time, a real and genuine smile. It’s small and sweet but McCoy gets a glimpse of his pearly whites between pink-painted lips, alluring and intriguing. “Oh yes, Leonard.”

“You know the drill, McCoy. Do whatever feels good, sounds good, n’looks good.”

McCoy nods in agreement at the director’s words but never actually takes his eyes off Spock. After a beat, he extends a hand to the Vulcan and is warmed when Spock takes his hand. With a slight tug, McCoy pulls Spock toward the parameters of the set. The tape on the floor lets them know the exact moment they’re meant to be in a scene. As soon as Spock’s endearingly green toes are over the line, McCoy hauls him close by the hips.

“Feeling a little overdressed compared to you,” McCoy says just loud enough for cameras to catch. His hands roam greedily across Spock’s exposed body, flitting down to cup his buttocks then hurrying up to brush his nipples. “Care to lend a hand?”

“Certainly.” Spock’s voice has no more or less emotion coloring his tone than any other time he’s spoken, but this time the single word sounds like a purr. In an instant, Spock drops to his knees, graceful, and his hands make quick work of McCoy’s button and zipper. Spock looks up at McCoy as he pulls the pants down, even as a pink-flushed, stiff cock springs from the confines and smears precome along Spock’s cheek.

“God, look at you.” McCoy reaches out to stroke along the side of Spock’s face. He plays with his hair, teases the tip of a pointed ear. “So eager for it, huh?”

Spock only hums in response. He turns his head with lips open and takes the tip of McCoy’s cock into his mouth. He suckles at the spongey tip desperately, tongue teasing the slit before sliding along the underside. Spock’s hands run up and down McCoy’s thighs, nails digging in just enough to leave little red lines that vanish quickly. As he takes the cock into his mouth deeper, he runs his hands up McCoy’s ass, his back, drawing back down again in slightly deeper welts, ones that stay just long enough to sting.

“Jesus,” McCoy groans as he tips his head back. He knots his hand in Spock’s hair to ground himself. “Look at you,” he murmurs, reaching out with his other hand to trace where Spock’s pink lips are stretched across his cock. He tilts his head to look down at Spock’s own flushed and hard cock that bobs between the Vulcan’s legs and smears precome across his abs. “Would you let me come on your face?”

Spock keens and the vibrations strike McCoy to his core. He sucks more feverishly, eagerly, clenching at McCoy’s skin as though he can get closer.

“Oh,” McCoy chuckles. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He pushes Spock’s bangs back. “Too bad. I’d rather come in your ass today.”

Spock moans again as he pulls off McCoy’s prick. With the head of McCoy’s dick resting on his lower lip, Spock gasps for air. “Please,” he breathes out. The single word sends shivers through McCoy’s body and is barely audible over his heartbeat hammering in his ears. “Please,” Spock says again with a final, sticky kiss to the slit of McCoy’s cock.

“How can I say no to your gorgeous face, darlin’?” McCoy extends his hand and helps Spock to stand. He jerks his head toward the couch a few steps away, then flashes his partner a lewd grin. “C’mon.” They move leisurely toward the plush couch and McCoy steps out of his pants as he goes. “Bend over the arm of the couch.”

Spock does so without complaint. He drapes himself over the arm, braces his hands on the cushion, and rises up on his toes to put both round swells of his ass on display. He looks over his shoulder and locks eyes with McCoy, then gives the subtlest wriggle of his ass to entice the other further.

McCoy takes a moment to breathe and then he drops to his knees in a mirror image of Spock not too long ago. He claps one hand on each of Spock’s cheeks and then spreads them, revealing his puckered hole. He’s not very stretched, not gaping like McCoy plans to make him, but he’s slick and a little swollen and McCoy’s mouth is watering.

Without warning he leans in and draws his tongue in a single broad stripe across Spock’s hole. The taste of clean skin mingles with the sticky sensation of lube that dribbles from Spock’s ass and McCoy presses closer for more. He hums as his tongue slips past the ring of muscle and into Spock’s body, earning a pitchy keen from Spock as a reward. Still humming his content, McCoy scrapes his nail delicately where cheek meets thigh just to hear Spock sigh and feel him shiver at the touch.

Pulling back to breath, McCoy replaces his tongue with the tips of two fingers. He presses them in slowly and speaks, “Enjoying yourself, darlin’?”

Spock pushes up on his toes to ride the feeling of McCoy’s fingers inside him. “Yes,” he gasps in reply. “But more would be appreciated.”

McCoy raises his head enough to catch Spock’s dark stare over his shoulder. “Alright, then.” He stands and steps away from Spock’s body just long enough to retrieve a tube of lube from the coffee table nearby. “I toldya, though, I was gonna take my sweet time splitting you open.”

Spock grips the couch, nails biting into the worn fabric. He watches McCoy with heavy eyes as the other walks toward him again, lube uncapped and slick spreading across his fingers. Spock doesn’t say anything, only bites at his lip as he watches, arches his back to present his ass to McCoy even more eagerly than before.

Once he’s close enough, McCoy sets the lube on the couch beside Spock then sidles up behind him again. “Gonna start now, okay? Tell me if it’s too much.” He brings two fingers, coated thoroughly in the unflavored lube, back to Spock’s hole. He braces his free hand on the middle of Spock’s back and pushes his fingers in to the second knuckle unrelentingly. “God, you’re so hot inside.”

And he is, so much so it’s mind numbing. McCoy nearly comes at the thought of getting his dick inside the tight, burning heat of Spock’s body; his only saving grace is Spock’s breathless moan breaking through his thoughts. McCoy looks down and admires the contrast of his pink skin against Spock’s green, admires the blush that covers Spock’s entire body like a second skin.

“Look at you,” McCoy murmurs reverently. “Look at how well you take my fingers.”

Spock clenches around the intrusion and in the same moment pleads, “More.”

McCoy obeys. He adds two more fingers and hisses at the tightness that ensnares him. Spock matches his hiss with a moan, throaty and deep in his chest. “I didn’t know Vulcans could get so loud.”

Spock sits up straighter so that he is no longer bent over the arm of the couch. He looks over his shoulder again and licks his lips before speaking. “Just imagine,” he tilts his head, “how loud I will be once you are fucking me properly.” Spock rolls his hips and takes Bones’ fingers in as deeply as possibly. McCoy’s hand slides from the small of Spock’s back around to his front where his cock is rubbing against the couch. The fabric is sticky with patches of precome, fat pearly blobs that leak from his cock.

McCoy leans in and bites the ball of Spock’s shoulder. He keeps both hands moving in tandem—four fingers thrusting into Spock’s tight hole, his other hand stroking the Vulcan’s cock lazily—as he marks Spock’s shoulders with hickies. “Gonna be screamin’ for it, ain’t ya?” He says as he trails kisses and bites up Spock’s neck till he reaches the tip of a pointed ear.

He bites the tip, then laves over the sting with his tongue. A full-body shudder runs through Spock’s body and his hole clenches tight around McCoy’s fingers.

McCoy curls his thumb in and teases the stretched green rim with the tip, very nearly slipping the digit inside. “Think you could take it?” He wonders. “Take my whole hand?” He abandons stroking Spock’s dick in favor of moving to flushed, pinkish-green nipples. He flicks the pert skin, then digs his trimmed nails in to elicit a gasp. “Not today,” McCoy decides. He pulls his thumb back enough to tease the skin around Spock’s hole. “Some other time, maybe.”

Spock looks over his shoulder again, the pure picture of debauchery. His mouth hangs open and flushed, panting and eyes heavy with desire. The flush on his cheeks is so vibrant, so pervasive, the heat rolling off his face in waves. “Please,” he hisses again. This time he reaches back and grabs McCoy’s wrist, halting his thrusts. “Now.”

Slowly, McCoy withdraws his fingers. “How do you want me?” He asks, mouth dry.

Spock’s lips quirk in a smile and a carefully trimmed eyebrow rises. “I believe that is what I should be asking you.” He turns though, so that he’s pressed up against McCoy’s bare chest. He settles his hands on McCoy’s shoulders and traces idle shapes on the sweat-slick skin. “You can have me however you like,” he adds coyly.

“Oh, _darlin’_ ,” McCoy growls as he takes Spock by the hips. “Could be dangerous, givin’ someone power like that.”

Spock simply smiles back at him. He doesn’t say it—it would break the scene otherwise, too tender for something that’s meant to be a good, clean-cut fuck—but it’s there in the curve of his lips. In the glint of his eyes and the way his grip tightens briefly on McCoy’s shoulders. _I trust you_. Which is absurd, the amount of force behind the feeling, enough that McCoy would stagger in any other moment. They’ve known each other less than five days and McCoy’s heart is hammering in his chest like a jackrabbit.

In the back of his mind, he wonders just what he’s gotten himself into.

He’s broken from his stupor by a soft and heated kiss. He groans and opens his mouth to Spock’s onslaught, loses himself in the taste of tea, however faint it is. Against Spock’s lips, he starts to speak, barely pulling away enough to break the kiss.

“I think I want you ridin’ me, wanna see you bouncing in my lap.”

Spock shivers and nods. “That would be agreeable,” he breathes back.

McCoy laughs; he throws his head back with a shout of mirth before losing himself in Spock’s eyes again. Hands tight on Spock’s hips, he guides them both until they’re on the couch. McCoy sits first, legs open wide and cock stiff. Spock settles across his thighs and uses his hold on McCoy’s shoulders to balance himself.

For good measure, especially as he watches a camera round on them and focus on Spock’s pert ass, McCoy takes a few extra moments to finger Spock. He’s open and wet and doesn’t need the extra care, but Spock revels in it and his cock leaks even more. Eventually, Spock bats his hand away again and casts a pointed look at McCoy’s own groin.

“Alright, alright,” McCoy concedes. He takes his dick by the base in the same moment that Spock shifts just right to align their bodies. The head of McCoy’s prick catches the first two times on the rim of Spock’s abused hole before finally starting to sink inside. Spock slides down slowly, whole body quaking as he’s filled to the brim. His nails bite hard enough to bruise into McCoy’s skin and his whole body is pulled taut with lust.

“Y’good?” McCoy mumbles, thoroughly entranced by the view of their bodies meeting.

“Very much so,” Spock moans in reply. His voice is thin and his words shake but he’s still smiling. He rolls his hips once as though to test the waters before starting to ride at a leisurely pace.

McCoy tilts his head back against the couch, overwhelmed by the heat encasing his dick. It’s wet and so fucking _hot_ , made even better by the way Spock’s body is glowing with arousal, the way his eyes won’t stop watching McCoy for a moment. McCoy lets himself meet the deep brown gaze and returns it with a smile of his own.

“Don’t think I fulfilled my promise to ya,” McCoy remarks idly. His fingertips dance, crazed, over Spock’s skin. He teases the damp head of Spock’s penis with a single fingertip; he puts pressure on the slit and smears the precome around even more. “I should’ve fingered you a little longer, had you strung out, made a damn mess of ya.”

“Next time,” Spock replies immediately. He drops a hand to curl around his cock and stroke, the teasing proving too much and not enough at the same time. He strokes and bounces and McCoy never lifts his fingertip from toying with the head of Spock’s dick. He finds a spot just under the ridge that has Spock’s entire body tensing in a burst of pleasure.

“Oh, what’s this?” McCoy leers. He teases the spot again, and again, and again, incessantly brushing the pad of his finger over the oversensitive, tiny patch of skin. Each time he does, Spock’s body tenses and he gasps for air like a drowning man. Spock grinds against him faster, with thighs that must be burning, and little broken sounds fall from his lips faster than he can catch his breath.

“That’s it.” McCoy lets his other hand slip to where his cock is slipping inside Spock over and over. He reverently touches where their bodies are joined and wishes he could see it better. Images of fucking Spock from behind, watching him spear Spock for _hours_. “God, could watch you all day.”

Spock gasps; McCoy’s name dies on Spock’s lips—no names, they agreed, not in this scene—and instead he barrels on. “I am close, so close.”

“C’mon, darlin’, you can let it go. Wanna watch you come with my cock inside you.” McCoy thrusts up once, hard, and presses his finger just hard enough against Spock’s overly sensitive dick in the same moment.

Spock does—Spock comes and never stops moving, his penis bouncing with the force of his thrusts. He comes in long spurts across McCoy’s chest, the drops catching in the hair on his chest.

The sight, the sensation, all of it tips McCoy over his own edge and he comes deep inside Spock’s body, hips thrusting in jerky, short movements as he exhausts himself. He gropes loosely at Spock’s ass and pulls him close, till their chests are sticking together and tacky. He grins against Spock’s neck and kisses the thrumming pulse beneath green skin.

For the first time since the scene started, the room is filled with nothing more than the sounds of their labored breathing. After a few moments, the director finally yells, “Cut!”

McCoy and Spock don’t break apart, though. They’re still breathing heavily, still wet with sweat and come; the crew moves around them, preparing to move to another room for a scene with a different couple.

“God,” McCoy murmurs.

“Indeed,” Spock replies. He lifts his head enough to look McCoy in the eyes. His expression is soft, now, though still flushed green. His fingers drum idly against McCoy’s skin. “Would you like to go out for dinner after we clean up, Leonard?”

McCoy raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Sure.”

Spock grins again. “Good.” He cups McCoy’s face with both hands and draws him in for a kiss. When they break apart, barely a hairsbreadth between them, Spock speaks again. “I believe this is going to be a most exciting partnership.”

McCoy’s heart skips a beat. “Gonna let me help clean you up?” He asks, already helping Spock off his lap. They stand, and McCoy finds himself effectively hypnotized by the sight of his come leaking out of Spock.

“I had hoped you might.” Spock takes McCoy by the hand and leads him from the set. They pause long enough to grab robes before setting off toward a bathroom.

 

 

Once they’re alone, surrounded only by tile and steam heat, McCoy crowds Spock under the spray. “Just what are you doin’ to me?” He asks in a low tone. “I’m not one for startin’ relationships with coworkers.”

Spock eyes him curiously. “It was my understanding you are close friends with James Kirk.”

“Close friends, yeah. M’friends with most everyone around here, but you.” McCoy makes a frustrated noise, one Spock soothes with a kiss. McCoy melts into the touch for a moment before talking again. “You’re different.”

Spock tilts his head. “Is that a good thing?”

“I’m not gonna tell you my whole life story in a shower.” He wants to, though. There’s so much bubbling under his skin that he wants to share with Spock, a feeling that’s come practically out of nowhere, and is more than a little terrifying.

“That does not answer my question.”

They stare at one another, unblinking. McCoy sighs and leans in for another kiss, and another, until they’re both breathless again.

“Yeah, it’s a good thing, you bein’ different.” McCoy breathes against Spock’s lips.  


End file.
